Shorts Equal Love Me
by Dixon Oriole
Summary: Just post G Rev. Oneshot. Hilary is an ambitious, desperate girl, who has so far found nothing but disappointment in her greatest conquest to date… Tyson. One sided TyHil. Mentions of TyKa.


_Disclaimer:_ I take no credit whatsoever for any element of this piece pertaining to Beyblade: including characters, setting, etc, etc… It belongs, and rightfully so, to its creator – Aoki Takao.

Shorts Equal Love Me

By: Dixon Oriole

I've been in love with you for a very long time. I acknowledge it – I'm not afraid to look my girlfriend's in the eye and say, straight-faced, "yeah, Tyson, love 'im." They know better than to talk you down or do anything too fangirlish around me. They believe me when I say it like I say it. I've thought long and hard about this, you know, wondering if I was kidding myself, if my affection for you was on a par with my love for any of the other guys, if I was just becoming obsessed with the sport you champion and somehow letting it transcend, but… That 'but', that's a big word. It means I had an epiphany, and guess what I did when I realized that I was in _love_ with you, seriously, deeply, almost creepily? I started wearing short shorts. I, uh, I don't know why – I hope it wasn't to get your attention. If it was just to get your attention then I'm no better than the writhing multitudes that roll over at your feet, drooling. I've got to be better than them. I'm at least better than that girl dressed only in the towel, the towel that said "take me, Ty-Ty" in red, yellow and blue paint.

Aren't I?

I have great legs; I can pull off short shorts. I'm sure it was nothing.

Anyway, knowing I was in love with you didn't _really_ change anything. I just worried some more – but then I've always worried because you're usually being such an idiot and getting into really weird kinds of trouble; it's only that, frankly, now the trouble seems worse. We haven't been kidnapped or trapped on islands or in falling buildings for a while, but I guess I don't like seeing you bleeding profusely or passing out or anything. Sometimes you get so tired. I don't blame the 'blading… Well, actually, I blame it completely. But I'd never talk you out of what you wanted to do. There'd be no point, you being so headstrong, me being so… and we'd get into some kind of argument and I always get so guilty after those. You just make me angry! The arguments are worth it, I mean, you get guilty too and that's really nice to see. I'd never fight you about beyblading. I love it – I love you, so I've got to love it. I could never have been your friend without… Whatever, it's just – everything is getting so dangerous. It seems like you get more and more hurt after every battle. I worry… a lot. I worry a lot these days, about all of you, but mostly about _you_. You're always getting into such _trouble_.

I don't know what else has changed. Is that it? Wardrobe and worries? I guess there's the – well, I almost don't want to admit it to myself… I try to make you jealous. Yeah, I know, drooling multitudes. But I _do_! I just say things like – God, I, I comment on other people. I say they're cute or hot or really sexy when you're in the room. I try to make sure they don't look anything like you. Usually they are pretty attractive so you won't think I have bad taste or anything, but I'm not the sort of person that just says that stuff out loud. Not without a reason, not without, like… Well I'm not Max. Max can get away with things like that. Seems like I can get away with things like that too because I've been told that I come across pretty forcefully, but – I don't know about _that_. The girl that said I was too forceful and scare boys away wasn't my friend after she said it, so I don't hear stuff of the like much anymore. Those over-critical lies. Come to think of it, I don't really have girlfriends anymore. I have you guys. Maybe I'm too _forceful_ for girls to hang around… Maybe I've been talking about you too much.

You never get jealous. I can't think of a single time you've even batted an eyelash. Once you sort of looked at me, but I'm pretty sure it was because I was on the verge of frustrated tears when I'd pointed out some boy in a movie's ass. You were just doing that friendly concern thing – I don't know where the others were then, 'cause if they'd been there and said something, you wouldn't have bothered. You'd have let Rei or Maxie take care of it. You get really uncomfortable around crying girls. And why shouldn't I have been crying? I was _frustrated_ – all I'd wanted was a little revenge, a little of… I'd wanted you to feel what I always feel. I wanted this envy to jab into the middle of your chest like it does mine and man, it _hurts_. I shouldn't wish it on you, it's too mean. It hurts too much for me to want it on you, but I _do_… You deserve every bit. I get so jealous when you sign some girl's bare skin or tossed panties, or when you're especially nice to one of your teammates or grin that dazzling, confident, inspiring grin of yours at fellow beybladers.

I wish I was like Max and could just jump you whenever I wanted and pin you and laugh with you, or like Rei and could make you listen to me and want my opinion so much and could always make you feel safe and protected, I'd even be like the Chief, whom you rely on just to get through the day and hasn't let you down even once. But really, I – I wish I was like him. I'm _so _jealous of him. I'm so jealous it makes me sick. I can deal with the fan stuff. I can brush off the fan stuff like you brush off my observations on the charms of men that aren't you. I know the fan stuff is a part of you, I know you just want to make people happy and it makes _you_ happy to do things like that. I know it comes with the territory. It's hard, but I can ignore all of it, and though I'll always want to be a part of the soul-deep bond all you 'bladers seem to share, I can even accept that I'll never be any good at it. I can, but… That big 'but' again. But _him_, I just can't swallow. I can't wrap my brain around it. I know I can't be a fangirl that you'll dutifully adore or a beyblader that you'll have such an affinity towards or allegiance with, but I'm so far from being anything like him that it's not even funny. It's pretty ironic that the first time I tried to make you jealous by talking about somebody else, it was by saying he was cute. I could kick myself.

You don't need to be told he's cute. You're in love with him, aren't you? Him, not me. Maybe you were even back then. One time you told me I looked good and I was so happy, and one time you showed up at this party and I was drunk because I was in love with you – so I wore short shorts and drank too much at a party, so what? I just wanted somebody to press me against a wall and kiss me like they cared. No one did; I guess you busted in too soon – and you wanted to take me home. It was kind of a big party with a lot of older people you didn't know (I had no idea who they were either; seek a party and you're bound to find one sooner or later) and you looked scared. Rei came with you because he likes to take care of everyone and you showed me to him, so completely out of it, and he carried me home on his back. I wish you'd carried me instead, but you didn't. Rei just scooped me up like the good guy he is and you didn't say a word, just looked nervous. I didn't get why. I was so mad at you, and I would have done anything stupid just to hurt you, hand over this _pain_ I've been feeling ever since… always. But there was nothing I could do then.

And there's nothing I can do now.

I want to walk into your grandpa's dojo completely naked but for a towel that says "take me, Ty-Ty" on it. Hell, I'd scream and swoon with the rest of them if I didn't know you so well. I know all the human things that make you impossible to hero-worship, all the nasty quirks and most of the dirty little secrets. But it's all that knowing, all that history and friendship that prevents me from standing anywhere but at your side – it's what puts me in team pictures, no less important that Kenny, maybe. We've sat together at sunset beside the canal and you've told me things that I like to pretend you wouldn't tell anybody else. I have to pretend I'm special because I know I'm not. I should be – I should be so damn special. I'm great. I'm pretty, smart, hard-working… I try so hard. I want everyone to like me and love me and I hardly ever hurt anybody, not for real. I wouldn't blow it by being a very bad person. I worry about my friends all the time and do everything possible to keep them going. I know I'm not easy to get along with. Sometimes I can be forceful. But I _help_, I do what I can, I know it's not much… And all this stuff makes me better than the stupid, nameless crowds. And worse.

I'm better than them and by all rights I should have a chance at this. I should have a decent shot at making you happy, because I think I could. You don't even realize that without me, you wouldn't know up from down. You'd be lost. Now you've just got to notice and let me love you. I only need one chance, I'll get it right. I'd impress you, I really would. All it'd take is for you to press me against a wall and act like you care, even just a little. If you'd only do that I'd promise to be with you forever. I wish I was with you right now. I'd cook for you and clean your stupid house and lean over the Chief's shoulder to try and learn all I can about the one thing you've devoted your life to, and I'd support you and care for you and I'd never stop worrying, not even for a minute, and I'd always wear those short shorts and BBA jackets and go to all your tournaments, acting like some kind of assistant for the stars, riding in your wake and kissing you right in public and making fans drop their towels in shock – I'd forget all about everything else for you. You wouldn't have to do anything but love me back. It can't be too much to ask.

I mean, you already love him. And he's so hard to love. And I'm so easy.

I wish I was like him and you would follow me wherever I went, absolutely captivated. I wish you'd wander around in a confused daze when I wasn't there, like you do for him, wondering so innocently where I am, though I think I'm probably shooting up in some alley somewhere or planning for the next time how to break your heart. I wish I could move you to tears, or you had such high expectations for me that I was capable of profoundly disappointing you, or have you angry and frustrated because you wanted to be in my presence or hear my voice and I wasn't around or wasn't talking. I wish you'd apologize to my slammed door when you hadn't even done anything wrong and it was only my fault. I wish you'd say the stupidest things, trying to make me smile some. And I wish you'd look up when I so quietly and proudly entered a room, dropping the temperature by ten degrees with my attitude alone, with this reenergized and delighted glimmer in your eyes. I wish you were relieved just to see me every morning, reassured that I hadn't stolen away in the night, never to return. You do all of that for him.

Know what you did the last time I entered a room? Not even glancing up from whatever you were reading, you said, "Hey, Hil, you didn't see anyone else outside, did you? I thought we were gonna train or something. The Chief's in getting Daichi all confused with blade schematics, so Max, Rei…" I remember you cleared your throat and smirked thoughtfully to yourself, "Maybe Kai? …Earth to Hilary, you listening?" I was walking out at that point. I didn't want to start a fight with you about something stupid just for the sake of yelling. If I'd stayed I might have blown everything. I need you as my friend. I'd die without you as my friend. You six – whoa, six now, but before it was just you five, I guess – are the best thing that's ever happened to me. I've seen the world with you. I've been the happiest ever because of every one of you. Because you took me in when you didn't have to. Even he just accepted my presence, didn't argue it at all; I have to thank him for that. I love him for that. He could have made me go, he could have scared me away if he'd wanted to. But he let it happen, this encroachment… maybe he couldn't be bothered. Whatever it was, I'm here now because of him. I'm able to adore you this much this closely because of him. What would I have been otherwise? One of the fans?

That's pretty sad.

In any case, it's always some declaration of hunger, not so tactfully telling me to high-tail it into the kitchen, or words about training or a question of where your name is in the paper on that particular day – first page still, right? Is he in the obituaries yet? He hasn't been home for a week. You're always worried about him like I'm worried about you. But you trust him so horribly much and I can't do that for you. I still think you're pretty stupid and you'll get yourself hurt someday. But you've got this faith in him, and this hope. You always _know_ he'll be back soon, and when he comes into a room you're always so happy. You always look up, speaking right to him, not to the open air, like you do with me. You always smile a little when you see him, even if you're pretending to be mad that he's such an inconsiderate dick. I'd kill for you to be like that with me. I'd kill to be like him, so you'd love me. I know you love him. You're just… you're in love with him. I understand that, I've been in love too. I've been in love with you for a very long time.

It seems like everyone is. Or at least the whole world.

I'm not Max, who you play with, acting like a pair of sugar-high five-year-olds, and tell everything deep and private to over a horror movie and a pizza, and adore unconditionally because in his presence you're unconditionally adored. I'm not Rei, who's defense you rush to almost as much as he does yours, and ask advice of and are completely honest with and utterly vulnerable around, because you know you won't ever be hurt. And I'm not _him_, Kai, who's every earth-shaking flaw you have accepted and constant wounds you've endured, ties of love and hate binding you to one another and always bringing him back to your side at the end, somehow – I'm not the person you would continue to be loyal to, no matter how many times betrayed. I'm not Kenny, who you would share a bed with, or Daichi, who you feel responsible for, or even Zeo, who I once _watched _you _fall for_. I'm not a beyblader that can stir and motivate and impress you at the drop of a hat. I'm not one of those fans that at least have your pity and the right to kiss your picture goodnight… I can't do stuff like that, I'm your friend.

That's what I am? Your friend? I'm supposed to be. I – I'm Hilary Tatibana. I followed you into your world a long time ago and haven't looked back since. It was confusing and really sucked at first, but I toughed it out, I earned my place as, as… Now it's confusing and sucks for a totally different reason. I don't _want _this place I've earned. I want to be in your arms, not at your side. I don't want to be taken for granted, but I can't make you jealous and I can't leave – I'm not like him. I can't just up and go, certain I'll have a place to return to. I'm Hilary, and I might not. I don't even know if I'm your friend. I'm your… disciple. I need to stop following you, but I'll never stop following you. I need to show you that I'm not always around, and just how much you depend on me, but I don't even know_ if_ you depend on me. I don't _know _that I'm necessary. There would be more room on the couch if I wasn't there, jammed between you and Rei, one thigh a pillow for Max, who's sprawled across your lap. What do I have to contribute to the Chief's scientific prattle, really? Even _more _logic? What do I have to offer _Kai_, tucked into a chair somewhere apart from the rest of us..?

I'm just Hilary, and I don't know where I stand. You should tell me, or fall in love with me – you should tell me after you fall in love with me. You should clear the others off of the couch so that we can have it, just the two of us. I want you to say I look good some more and mean it and get really, really jealous, and carry me home from parties you worry about me attending, and think my shorts are hot. And I want you not to be in love with him anymore. It shouldn't be that difficult – he's a pain to love, I can see it, and though I _want_ you to be in pain, not for _him_, not because of _Kai_. He's just trouble, as much as I care for him. You're always just getting into trouble, and I want to protect you as much as anybody that's met you, if not more. Protecting you means getting you to stop loving him so much. It'll make you sick. And crazy. He's sick and crazy enough for all of us. Instead you should love me. I can't hurt you and I deserve it – I've wasted a lot of my life being in love with you. I've been in love with you for a very long time.

Now love me back.

Please.

* * *

_Author's Notes: _I have no special love for Hilary. I only think she's in an interesting position, one the Mary Sues of the world must just want to _kill _her for. I also thought it was interesting that dear Tyson could be put into either a heterosexual or homosexual relationship, depending on viewer's choice… Hilary or Kai… I know I mentioned Zeo in a romantic light there, but it was just for kicks. I'm not getting into my opinion of TyKa at the moment – it is filled with a sense of foreboding. This piece came from trying to understand why Hilary acts the way she does – not for fluffy yaoi moments. I like these first-person one-shots from different character's perspectives. They give me a chance to practice speaking naturally and plainly. Nobody uses big words in their heads… 


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